Sick As Dogs
by Hoodoo
Summary: With three teammates deathly ill, one has to hold onto his sanity and get them help.  Contains OCs, set within the story arc that starts with "Paper Roses".
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: all non-original characters are property of their respective owners. For entertainment purposes only. No harm, no foul, 'kay?

As I've mentioned before, my muse doesn't do things all nice and orderly. This A-Team story is contained within my arc and falls between "Because It Is Bitter . . . " and "Two Dates". Apologizes for confusion and heartfelt kisses for anyone who's been keeping up with this! :)

Enjoy!

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><p>Murdock was driving, which would have enraged B.A. to no end—but B.A. was delirious and couldn't be trusted to name the planet he was on, let alone complain.<p>

Face's fever was reaching those proportions too. The moans from the back of the van reminded Murdock of the VA hospital. It made one of the voices in his head—one in the dusty padlocked chest he tried to keep under a rock in the corner of his mind—wonder if he was just in the hospital, that the moans were cutting through from reality and he was actually just laying in a bed with his wrists in leather restraints attached to the steel frame to prevent him from reaching out and grasping air like he was driving a van—

"Murdock, it's not too much further. Can you get us there from here?"

"Absolutely!" Murdock answered Hannibal.

The Bossman wasn't quite as sick, yet, but he didn't remember the pilot had a photographic memory when it came to maps and directions.

Hannibal groaned and pitched forward. Murdock shot an arm straight out to catch him before he pulled a header into the dashboard. The van swerved.

"Come on, boss—stay with me! You said you were gonna call Stella, let her know what's up!"

He shoved the older man back against the seat.

Before he started going downhill—after the other two, but before he realized how quickly the plague was going to get him too—Hannibal said that Stella could help, Stella had been a nurse, they needed to get to Stella's.

It would be fewer questions than trying to get into a doctor's office or hospital.

It was only an eight hour drive.

Murdock, against his better judgment, agreed. He helped the increasingly ill ex-Colonel load the other two men into the back of the van, and they started out.

There were no sing-a-longs, no soliloquies, no games of "I Spy" or road poker, no familiar cigar smoke, no Face to tease and no B.A. to complain that he never shut his damn fool mouth. Just hard driving, straight through, with moans and coughing in the back that made him not want to turn around in case this was a horror movie and his friends were now zombies.

And Hannibal promised to call Stella, but hadn't.

Murdock addressed him again. "Hannibal, man—Stella awesomely cool and all, but jumping in at her with both feet and a van full of pestilence isn't polite."

Oh my god, the voice in his head said. Pestilence? Hannibal is Conquest, B.A. is War, Face started this Pestilence, and that means we're Death?

"Fuck you!" Murdock mutter-screamed to the voice inside his head.

"What, Captain?" Hannibal managed to ask.

Murdock shook his head, and hoped the voice rattled to oblivion. "Help me, Bossman. Call Stella right now!"

At the order, Hannibal managed a nod. With an exaggerated motion, he extracted his cell phone. With the same exaggerated care, he punched a few buttons, and then looked blankly at it. Murdock picked it out of his hands as he heard Stella's voice on the other end.

"Hello? . . . hello?"

"Stella!" Murdock shouted, since the phone wasn't quite at his mouth yet. "Stella, Hannibal said this time it would be all right to call you, he's sorry about it but he can't trust a hospital. I thought maybe one of those MedExpress places—"

"What is it, Murdock?" she interrupted with a no-nonsense tone.

"We've got some problems. Everybody's sick! Real sick. High fevers and chills—" and my fingertips are bleeding with the tenacious hold I'm trying to keep on reality, he added in his own head, "—and coughing! Hannibal's the third, he's not quite as far along yet—"

"Get here, Murdock. The garage door will be open."

"Great! We'll be there—" he tried some quick calculations in his head, but the moans from the back and the rabble of voices between his ears merged too loudly. "—soon! We'll be there soon!"

He flipped the phone shut and plugged his ear with his finger to try and block out the noises before he realized he hadn't thanked her.


	2. Chapter 2

True to her word, and even though he hadn't said thank you, Stella had the garage door up when he finally pulled into her driveway. He caught a glimpse of her hurrying passed her own car to shut the door behind the vehicle as he got out from behind the driver's seat.

"Murdock—" she said as he came around the back of the van.

"Everyone's really sick, Stella," Murdock blurted. "I got here as fast as I could—"

He fumbled with the door handle, but was hindered by Stella pulling him into a hug. Murdock let himself relax against her for a moment, then shook himself away. Stella could sense he was trying very hard to hold himself together.

As he opened the back of the van, she put on an professional air and asked,

"Who got sick first?"

"F-facey. Then Bosco. His fever's been real high. Bossman—Hannibal was next. Face and Bosco are back here," he said, indicating inside the van. "It seemed best to let them lay down for the trip. I made Hannibal put his seat back as far as it would go. He fell asleep about an hour ago."

Stella took a cursory glance over the men. Murdock offered her a hand to help her up into the vehicle, but seemed reluctant to climb in himself. She carefully made her way around the two men laying there. B.A. was flat on his back in a fitful sleep; Face was balled up on his side, shivering.

"What have they been doing, Murdock? Vomiting, chills, sweats . . .?"

"No vomiting. Shaking and sweating. Some coughing—"

"Productive coughing? Bringing anything up?"

He didn't care about the interruption. He nodded. "Bosco, mostly. Mucusy junk."

"With blood?"

Murdock nodded again. "A little."

"No one else coughing like that? Anything else?"

Just the moaning, Murdock thought to himself. The moaning, the moaning, all moaning sounds the same, whether it's from physical or mental sickness, it worms its way into your pores—

"Nothing else," he told her in spite of his thoughts.

As she asked her questions, Stella used gentle hands to check pulses and foreheads. B.A. didn't move as she touched him but Face groaned as she put her hand on his head.

"Templeton? Can you hear me?" she asked him, and was rewarded with unfocused, half-opened eyes. "I'm going to lift your eyelids, okay? Just a quick peek."

Face's shivering was so much Murdock couldn't tell if he nodded in agreement.

Stella did just what she promised; a swift thumbing of his upper eyelids to check his sclera, then she let him relax.

Murdock helped her back out of the van.

"And John?" she asked. Murdock was impressed how steady she kept her voice.

Murdock led her to the passenger door. "He hasn't been sick as long. He's not as bad."

Making sure his former CO wasn't leaning against the door and would therefore need caught if his support gave way, Murdock opened the door for her. Again, he stepped back out of the way and didn't look much at the man laying there.

Stella stepped up and gave the same exam to Hannibal that she had to his teammates in the back. He shuddered at her touch, and woke up.

"Stella. We made it," he croaked.

"What—you think your ace pilot couldn't get you here?" she teased lightly in return, glancing at Murdock through the window.

Murdock didn't respond to her joke, just shifted from foot to foot. Stella noted his reaction but didn't ask him about it. She focused her attention back on Hannibal.

"Any coughing from you yet?"

Stoically he shook his head. "No. I'm burning up, though."

"You certainly are. All three of you are feverish. We're going to get you in the house and take care of you."

Stella took a step back.

"How're we gonna get them in there, Stella?" Murdock asked quietly. He'd begun chewing a fingernail. "I mean, the boss and Face I can prob'ly manage, but moving Bosco'll be like moving a mountain."

"I can help too, Murdock," she told him. "We'll manage it."

"Murdock and I can deal with B.A.," Hannibal said, he struggled to sit up, even as Stella grabbed his arm.

"Oh seriously, John! You're as weak as a kitten!" she scolded.

He waved off her concern. "I'm fine. I can help get B.A. up and into the house!"

Stella sighed, and the hard line her lips made reminded Murdock of Hannibal when he was trying to be patient. She turned back to Murdock.

"Fine. Here's what we'll do. You and I—and John—will get B.A. to the bedroom. Then you, John, will stay in the house while we come back and get Face. Understood?"

Hannibal looked about to protest, but Stella silenced him. "Murdock and I can handle Face! There's no need for you to overexert yourself even more! You're going to get in the house and stay there, and rest, and let me help get you boys over this sickness!"

Murdock thought if he were Hannibal, he would do what she said.

Because she made the concession to allow him to help maneuver B.A. in, he agreed that he would stay put once there and let them deal with Face.

"Good," Stella said briskly.

She helped him down out of the van with a hand on his elbow, then slipped her arm around his waist as they went to the back of the vehicle. Murdock didn't think it was for affection as much as support by the way Hannibal leaned on her, and made to help take some of his weight, but Stella didn't mention it and he let them be.

Murdock clambered over the big man in the back and settled by his shoulders.

"Hey, Bosco! Bosco! You've gotta wake up, man! We're here at Stella's, and she can't mother you in the back of your van!"

Face groaned and twisted uncomfortably at the noise. Murdock paused a moment to put his hand on Face's chest.

"Your turn soon, Facey," he said in a hushed voice. Face quieted.

Murdock turned his attention back to B.A. "Come on, big guy," he grunted, shoving his hands under the black man's shoulders. "Let's get moving."

Using his elbows as levers, he managed to hoist B.A. somewhat upright. It woke him, and as was typical he was upset and tried to wiggle out of Murdock's grasp.

"I'm not trying to hug you, Bosco!" Murdock explained desperately. "Give me a break here!"

Untypically, due to the illness, B.A. was weak and couldn't prevent Murdock from continuing to lift him up, and push him out toward the open rear doors. Stella lifted his legs and helped ease him to a seated position on the bumper. Murdock panted with the strain.

"B.A.?" Stella asked. "Can you hear me?"

Feebly he nodded. "Yeah."

"Wonderful! Now, Murdock and John are going to help you into the house—can you help them? Can you try to stay on your feet?"

"Yeah . . ."

Stella wasn't sure he knew what he was agreeing to, but she nodded to Murdock. He slipped out of the van as Stella held B.A. upright, then pulled the black man's arm over his shoulder and wrapped his own around his waist.

"One, two, three!" he counted, and with Stella's encouragement, B.A. rose unsteadily to his feet.

Murdock groaned under the weight, and braced himself. As he told them, Hannibal stepped up to help as well. Between the two of them and Stella assisting as much as she could, they struggled their way into her house.

They got B.A. into her spare bedroom and onto the sofa bed she'd already pulled out in preparation. Murdock maneuvered him onto the bed as best he could, but let Stella make him comfortable. She was interrupted as B.A. began coughing, bringing up phlegm speckled with streaks of blood, just as Murdock had mentioned.

Hannibal, who stood leaning against the wall near the door, took a step forward. Stella ordered him out of the room, and he didn't insist on staying. Murdock was already gone.

In a similar manner to Murdock's, she forced B.A. to sit up again, to make it easier for him to cough. She clapped his back to help loosen the secretions in his lungs, and until he worked so hard he retched, she didn't let him lay back down.

As she did so, Murdock snuck back into the room with a glass of water.

"Thanks," Stella told him, and helped B.A. take a few sips. In only a few seconds, however, he shook his head and she took the glass away.

She covered him and turned down the lights, then left the room.

She was surprised to find Hannibal in her recliner and Face on the couch, shivering but bundled up in a quilt.

"I brought him in," Murdock told her quietly. "I didn't know quite where to put him."

"This is fine, Murdock," Stella told him. "I don't think he could make it upstairs."

"No."

Murdock looked gray, and although he was talking to her, Stella noticed he didn't look her in the face. His gaze flitted from side to side and around, but never directly at her. Even though she needed to attend to the sick men, Stella took his arm.

"Murdock, why don't you go sit down in the kitchen. I'm sorry John has the recliner; it'd be more comfortable for you. You go and just relax, and I'll be in in just a few minutes and get us something to eat. Okay?"

Mutely he nodded, and wandered away.

Stella watched him go. She wanted to find out what exactly was going through his head, but at the moment more pressing matters needed attended to.

She found another blanket and tucked Hannibal in. He woke up momentarily as she kissed his forehead, but was asleep again before she turned to Face. She pulled the cushions off the back of the couch to give him more room, felt his forehead again, and even though he protested, tucked him in tightly too.

"I know you think you're burning up, Templeton, but you have to stay covered," Stella explained patiently as she wrapped the quilt under his legs. When she was done he looked mummified.

"Mus' be how . . . Murdock feels," he muttered with his eyes closed, " . . . in a . . . straightjacket . . ."

Stella chuckled a little. "Probably. Get some sleep."

He was able to almost nod.


	3. Chapter 3

Eh, Chapters 3 and 4 are short, so I'm thowing them on the site together. :)

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><p>Stella found Murdock in the kitchen as she asked, staring into the corner of the room.<p>

"Murdock?" she asked quietly, not wanting to startle him. "Are you okay? Can I make you something to eat?"

Her attempt to not scare him was wasted; he jumped anyway and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Murdock?" she asked again, taking a step closer.

He was immediately on his feet. "No, no, I'm fine, Stella. Just fine."

Stella looked him over carefully, trying not to make it obvious she was worried about him. "You look very tired. Why don't you go upstairs and lay down. I'll take care of things here, and when you get up in the morning you can have some breakfast."

Murdock opened his mouth to breathe and Stella watched him swallow. "You'll take care of them? You have medicine? You know what to do?"

A slightly desperate pitch clouded his voice.

She nodded immediately. "Yes, I do. I don't know what exactly is making them sick, but I'll take care of them. We'll get them medicine. We'll do it together."

It wasn't exactly the right thing to say, because he flinched. Caution be damned, Stella walked to him and hugged him tightly. He resisted her a moment, straining away slightly, but after a moment passed and she hadn't let him go, Murdock relaxed into her embrace. She rocked him in place very very slowly.

Stella stood with him as long as he allowed her to, then carefully released him.

"I need to go out to the drug store. You'll be okay here?"

"I can go! You tell me what you need. I'll go get it!"

She shook her head. "You need to rest, Murdock. You look exhausted."

At the pained expression that crossed his face, Stella amended herself.

"If you don't want to stay by yourself right now, I'll go tomorrow morning. Okay?"

He swallowed again.

"That's a better idea," she answered herself. "We'll all get rested up, and I'll head out tomorrow."

"You need to get medicine—" he tried to protest weakly.

She interrupted him. "It'll be fine till tomorrow. I've got stuff to give them tonight, and waiting will let me figure out what'll be best."

"O . . . okay," he agreed. His inflection sounded somewhat reluctant, but his body language indicated he was relieved she wasn't leaving the house tonight.

"Good. Since you don't want anything to eat, head on upstairs. Like I said, I'll take care of everyone down here; you just go rest."

Murdock mumbled a thank you, and obeyed.

Once she heard his footsteps on the stairs, Stella sighed. She found fever reducers and coaxed the other three men into taking them, inventoried her medicine cabinet, and brought in their duffel bags from the van before climbing the stairs herself to get some sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Whatever virus hit the team, it lingered. Although Face and Hannibal got slightly better, they stayed weak and drowsy. Both of them developed the hacking cough, and Face lost most of his voice, but neither was as bad as B.A.

The black man continued to bring up bloody phlegm, and his fever fluctuated from just above normal to almost-scary high. Stella spent most of her time with him. Murdock made attempts to help take care of the other two, but because they were not as ill most times he left them alone unless specifically asked.

He was eager to go out for groceries and to the pharmacy. Stella made him take her car when he did. She watched him through the windows as he would drive away, the intense expression on his face the same anxiety as when he was forced to stay in the house.

Once, after he returned, she met him in the kitchen and told him to sit down. He immediately complied, keeping hold of the plastic bags he'd brought in.

She sat in the chair beside him. "Murdock . . . I need to ask you something," she said.

The tone in her voice made him flinch and a wary cast crossed his face.

"I don't want this to sound disrespectful. I just need to know—"

He tensed.

"—I need to know if you're taking your medications. I've been so focused on taking care of everyone else I haven't been able to make sure you're okay," she continued.

"Meds?" he squeaked with a relieved laugh. "Yeah. I'm taking my meds."

Stella didn't let him off so easily. "All of them? You're not running out of anything, or forgetting?"

"Did Facey get coherent enough to ask you to grill me?" he replied, trying to make it sound like a joke. It didn't quite work.

Stella sighed and sat back. "I'm sorry, Murdock. It's just that I've been so busy with everyone that I wanted to make sure everything was okay with you too. I know I'm prying and being inconsiderate.

"I trust you. I really do. So I'm really sorry I brought this up. All right?"

Murdock bit the inside of his cheek and nodded quickly. He was taking his meds! There were just times when everything in the real world was a little too much, even for the pills to handle—

"Okay," Stella said, evidently willing to drop the subject.

Murdock knew that if Face or Hannibal (or even B.A. if he was forced to admit it) had been in on the conversation, they would have known there was something else and pressed him further. But she switched subjects.

She continued, "B.A.'s still not doing great. I think . . . I don't want to worry anyone, but I think we should call his mother and Angel. I think they should know he's pretty sick, and I think they should come see him."

Murdock pondered this. "Hannibal's not going to be super happy about letting them know where you live."

Stella shook her head. "I don't care. B.A. needs support, and this is my house. I can invite who I want."

"He'd be worried that if they knew and someone got to them—"

"I know what John's worried about, Murdock. And I still don't care. I think this is important. Will you call them and let them know?"

He thought what she wanted over. It would go against everything that Hannibal had ever said and planned, but she was right; Bosco should have his family here. He decided to do one better.

"I'll call them, Stella, and I'll get them here."


	5. Chapter 5

Murdock didn't lie, nor waste time. He called both Angel and Mrs. Baracus, then, once the initial outbursts and worry had subsided, he put them both on the line with him and they made travel arrangements. He was glad that B.A.'s girlfriend and mother both got along, and that Angel's schedule was flexible enough that she could drop what she was doing to go to Mrs. Baracus's home. They would meet him at the airport in two days, and he would bring them back to Stella's house.

Now that he thought about it, Murdock realized that Hannibal hadn't ever said anything about Angel and Mrs. Baracus knowing each other. So he made it all right in his head that it would be fine to get all three women together.

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><p>He was right. Stella already knew Angel marginally, of course, but even though it was this first meeting between her and Mrs. Baracus wasn't under the best possible circumstances, both women immediately fell in together as if they'd known each other for years.<p>

"You takin' care of my boy?" Mrs. Baracus asked pointedly as she marched into the house ahead of Angel and Murdock, who were struggling with suitcases.

"Yes I am," Stella replied gravely.

B.A.'s mother looked over Stella, while Stella looked over her.

"You ain't too skinny for a white girl. That's good," Mrs. Baracus finally said, and Stella laughed at being called a girl.

"Come on back to the spare bedroom," she invited, and linked her arm with Mrs. Baracus's to lead her through the house.

Murdock and Angel paused for a moment in the foyer as the two women disappeared further into the house. Murdock let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I'm glad that went well," he said in relief.

"Yeah. Me too."

"You go on. I'll take care of all this," he told Angel, indicating the suitcases. "Just head on back the hall. You can't miss it."

Angel looked at him wide-eyed, then slowly wandered away. Murdock puzzled over her behavior for a moment, realized he shouldn't be trying to evaluate anyone—he wasn't a trained sociologist or psychologist; how could he know how non-clinically insane people behaved?—then traipsed upstairs with the luggage.

When he came back down carrying his own duffel (he decided on his own that Mrs. Baracus should have a private bedroom), he was surprised to find Angel in the living room with Face and Hannibal.

"B.A. sleeping or something?" he asked.

Angel gave a strange half-shrug.

He narrowed his eyes at her and wished that both or either of the other two were with it enough to help him out. Hannibal was still asleep, however, and although Face had his eyes open and had obviously been talking to Angel, he didn't look like he comprehended anything going on around him.

"You okay?"

She half-shrugged again. "I guess."

"Stella and Mama Baracus aren't going to mind you going back there. They're probably wondering where you are."

Angel looked nervous . . . she looked scared, Murdock thought. He went to her, then crouched beside her.

"Bosco'll be happy you came," he said softly. "It'll help him that you're here."

She twisted her hands together, a nervous gesture Murdock had never seen from her before. "The way you talked about it, on the phone," she whispered. "It sounded like . . . like he was so out of it he wouldn't know who was here. It sounded so _bad."_

"Hey now," Murdock soothed, getting up to settle in next to her on the couch. He took her hands to slow their twistings; the movement made him anxious. "He's sick, sure, but he's not in a coma or anything. He's been sleeping lots—the meds Stella's been giving him make him tired, but he still comes around. Sometimes he wants something to eat. Most times he's just glad he's got someone looking after him."

Angel clamped her lips closed tightly, trying to physically keep her tears in. Murdock pulled her into a hug.

"Sure it's scary," he acknowledged. "But I gotta say, if you stick around with us long enough, seeing him with a virus isn't anything."

She wiped her cheeks and wondered what he meant by the cryptic remark. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, so she gave a shaky nod.

"Come on. I'll go back with you, if you want."

Angel nodded again, and allowed him to help her up. She told Face she'd be back; he nodded absently in response, and they left. Murdock kept his arm around her waist to guide her to the spare bedroom.

As they got there, Angel stiffened.

"I just don't like sick," she tried to explain. "I don't like seeing the people I know . . . be sick."

"I know, I know," he replied in a calm manner. "It's tough. But you're tougher, and you can do this."

She looked at him like she wanted to catch him in a lie, but finally had to nod again.

Carefully he escorted her into the room.

Whatever reservations she expressed outside disappeared once she saw B.A. propped by pillows on the bed. With a gasp she hurried to the bedside, the tears she'd denied in the living room flowing freely. She pushed passed Stella and leaned over the bed, grasping B.A.'s hand as she did.

He managed to pry open his eyes.

"Hi, baby," he murmured, squeezing her hand. Then he furrowed his brow and asked, "Mama and Angel? How'd you work that magic, fool?"

His question was directed to Murdock, but the pilot wasn't there to answer.


	6. Chapter 6

_Quick note: just like there's no canon evidence of Murdock's first name, neither is there a mention of B.A.'s mother's name. So I picked one._

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><p>Stella helped Angel get more comfortable caring for B.A., telling her essentially what Murdock had: have a serious relationship with an ex-military man and him being under the weather wasn't the worse she would have to deal with. The older woman didn't go into details, but made passing references to inflicted wounds that needed tending versus standard sicknesses.<p>

Angel understood, but comprehension wasn't much consolation when B.A. hacked so hard he retched, or when he struggled for breath occasionally.

She steeled herself for him, and learned to coupage his chest and back to help loosen the phlegm. She willed herself to stay with him even when he was asleep. His mother commented out of earshot that that girl had the constitution of a horse and the stubbornness of a mule. The men would have agreed.

Mrs. Baracus was concerned with her son of course, but also helped with the cooking and care of the other two sick men. Stella appreciated her assistance, and told her so gratefully.

After another day or two had passed, however, Stella told her she was getting more concerned.

"John and Templeton seem to be shaking this thing. It's slow, but it's going. B.A., however . . ."

"I ain't got no medical background, Stella. You're gonna have to tell me straight."

Stella shook her head. "I think that there's not much more I can do here. I think we need to consider getting him someplace that can get prescription drugs and IV fluids."

Mrs. Baracus wrapped her arms around herself and rocked. "My boy don't have health insurance. How we gonna do that?"

"Let me talk to Murdock, but I may know someone who can help."

With a single thought, both women realized they hadn't seen Murdock for awhile. He hadn't come to dinner. He hadn't hung around, asking to help or looking lost. They didn't know . . . anything.

Both of them immediately began to search. They tried to be quiet in calling for him, but Angel popped her head out the bedroom door. Once she heard the reason for the search, she told them he hadn't been in, and she hadn't seen him either. She reluctantly left B.A. to help look.

Face groggily lifted his head and sat up. He told them Murdock would be outside and made to get up to go with them. As Mrs. Baracus and Angel hurried out, still calling for him, Stella forced Face back onto the couch, telling him he shouldn't be up yet; don't worry; we'll find him.

Since she could still hear the other two women shouting for Murdock, she left Face wrapped in the quilt to join the search again.

As she went through the room, however, she noticed the grill to the fireplace was moved. On a solid hunch, she moved it completely out of the way and tugged open the hatch.

Peering into the darkness of her bunker, she asked quietly,

"Murdock, honey? You there?"

A very faint movement from below convinced her he was.

Carefully she climbed down the ladder. She left the hatch open, which let light in, but it was still too dark to see well.

"Could you turn on a small light?"

Stella didn't know if Murdock would do it, but after a moment, one of the reading lamps set into the wall flipped on. It wasn't overly bright, but Murdock squinted his eyes as they adjusted. He stood up from the built-in bunk and, in an eerie déjà vu from the night he'd driven in, didn't seem capable of meeting her eyes.

"Are you okay, Murdock?" Stella asked, going over to him.

"I'm cool, Stella."

He sounded dull, so Stella carefully sat on the bunk. "Please sit down, Murdock?"

To her relief, he complied. She didn't touch him.

"I'm cool," he repeated, staring at his lap.

"Really? Why are you . . . hiding down here?"

"Wasn't hiding. Just needed a place to sleep, since I gave Mama Baracus the bedroom."

"We would have set you up on an air mattress."

He shook his head sadly. "Not necessary. It was nice to be down here, dark and quiet."

Stella felt herself nodding, even though it was involuntary.

"Sometimes, sometimes I . . . need the dark," Murdock continued softly. "It's soft and hushed . . . I can't see anyone, and no one can see me . . ."

"Okay," she replied.

"Okay," he repeated. It wasn't a question; it sounded resigned.

A thought came to Stella. "Murdock," she said, "you've done so much. You did so much getting everyone here. It must have been terrifying, trying to be calm and . . . rational while everyone else was so sick."

He glanced up at her.

"And then when B.A. wasn't getting better you got his mother and girlfriend—you physically went and got them; I'm glad we were able to find a Cessna to rent on such short notice! You went out of your way to get people here to help take care of him.

"But now I think . . . you didn't get anyone for you. Is there someone I can call, or someone you can go visit to . . . help you out right now?"

His expression went from remote to sad and troubled all at once.

"There was this . . . one woman," he offered with a slight hesitation. "I was with her for a little bit."

Stella nodded in encouragement.

"But . . ." He dropped his head to watch himself pick at his fingernails. ". . . we decided to take a break. I miss her. She didn't mind that I had . . . some problems. And she helped me when my meds weren't cutting it."

"Maybe you should contact her," suggested Stella.

Murdock shrugged one shoulder and shook his head. "We haven't spoken for awhile. I don't think I should call her out of the blue just . . . just for something like this."

Stella didn't push him. "Okay, Murdock. But you know you can always come to me or Angel or Irene if you need to. You know that, right?"

"I know," he muttered.

"Okay. Come here so I can hug you."

He scooted next to her and let her embrace him and smooth his hair. Unlike that night in the kitchen, he didn't pull away or make her stop until she was ready this time, so they sat quietly together. Finally Stella pressed a kiss in his hair.

"You're welcome to stay here, Murdock, but I need to get back up there. We were looking for you, and everyone'll worried if they can't find me either."

He nodded.

"And something else," Stella added with a sigh. "B.A.'s not getting better like I'd expect him to. I have a friend who's a doctor who would probably help us. Is it okay that we take B.A. to go see him?"

Murdock looked a little startled that she was asking his permission. Then he realized with Hannibal still not right and because he technically outranked Face, he was XO and needed to make these decisions. He needed to push through the ululating voices in his head and step up to deal with this situation. He'd tried concealing himself; it didn't work. He would try taking command; sometimes that did.

He sat up straight.

"Whatever you think is best, Stella. You're the nurse."

"Thank you. Can you help us get him to the van?"

"Sure."

"And—I know this'll be hard, but I'll need you to stay here and watch John and Templeton. Angel and Irene will want to be with B.A., I imagine."

"Of course."

The voices behind his eyes clamored and tried to dig their tiny talons into the inside of his skull; Murdock chased them with a mental broom and forced them into specially designed mousetraps to hold them fast.

"I'll take care of them, Stella. You can count on me."

Watching him with a smile creeping over her face, Stella didn't know what had changed in the past few minutes, but was glad Murdock seemed to be back with them again instead of skulking in the periphery.


	7. Chapter 7

Hannibal was still asleep as Stella and Murdock emerged from the bunker, but Face was half-aware.

"Hey. You found him," he croaked, sitting up slowly.

Murdock went to him. "Yeah. I got found. B.A.'s still real sick, Facey, so he's gotta get to a—"

He looked over to Stella for the proper word.

"A clinic," she supplied.

"A clinic," Murdock finished.

Face nodded. "I can help . . ."

Murdock shook his head and held him in place while Stella told them she was going to get Angel and Mrs. Baracus and get the van prepared. She left the two men talking quietly.

* * *

><p>Angel insisted on helping support B.A. as they moved him through the house. Murdock didn't have the energy to argue that her petite frame couldn't hold up 220 pounds of sickness. Mrs. Baracus did, however, and shooed the girl away, telling her she'd help best by opening the doors and encouraging her son to keep moving.<p>

Murdock still looked slightly skeptical that the older woman would be much help either, but when they both worked together, he found that B.A.'s mother could bear her share of the weight.

They got him to his van again, and eased him into the back. Angel crawled in beside him to cradle his head, and his mother started for the passenger seat. Before she got too far, however, Murdock stopped her as he handed Stella the keys.

"Here," he told them both, thrusting an envelope at them.

Stella set her mouth into a line, but Mrs. Baracus accepted it.

"I didn't want to wake Hannibal, but Face and I talked it over. This is all the cash we have," Murdock explained. "Use it for Bosco's medical care."

"No," Stella said immediately.

"Stella, we talked about it," he replied. "Take this money and use it."

"It's not necessary," she insisted.

"Stella, my boy needs help—"

"Yes, Irene, but taking all the money they have isn't going to make a difference," Stella replied. "This doctor . . . he's a . . . friend of mine. I don't think he'll—"

"Just in case? Please, Stella," Murdock pleaded.

Confronted with two people who wanted to give away everything the team had, she relented.

"We'll take it with us," Stella sighed. Murdock nodded, pleased, even as she continued, "and we'll bring it back!"

The pilot smiled dismissively, gave each woman a hug and blew a kiss to Angel before closing the rear doors of the van. He opened the garage door for them and shut it behind them with a quick wave.

* * *

><p>He was waiting for Stella when she returned to her house. She walked in to him putting the final touches on a light meal for her.<p>

"How's Bosco?" he asked immediately.

"He's got a pretty nasty pneumonia," she replied tiredly. "Blake—Dr. Tucker took some x-rays and set him up with IV fluids and some IV meds. He'd like to see John and Temp too, to make sure they don't need anything stronger either."

Murdock led her to the table and set a plate in front of her.

"How was everything?" she asked. He didn't need her to expound on the question.

"Good," he replied. "They both ate. I wasn't sure what meds they were due for, so I left that for you."

She nodded. "Okay."

Although Murdock seemed much more with her, there was still an air of subtle agitation around him. It seemed hard for him to sit still.

"Thank you for dinner," Stella said, figuring that was a safe subject to start with. "Did you eat?"

He gave her an odd twitch, half nod, half shake.

"Remember you can tell me what's . . . wrong, Murdock," she said gently. "I'm not a psychiatrist, and I know they told you they just want to help. But I just want to help too, and I really mean it. I'm not going to judge you."

He managed a nod, accompanied by a frown.

Stella let him decide, and continued eating.

Finally, after fidgeting and opening his mouth several times like he was going to say something but then closing it again, Murdock said, "I . . . want to know . . ."

Stella waited.

"Ugh! Hannibal's better at this than me!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I'm a Captain! I've had men under my command before! I can do this! But Hannibal's a Colonel—he's just got this aura around him, you know? People obey him because he _expects_ them to obey! And I can do it, I _have_ done it, but it's just . . ."

Stella put down her fork and stretched her hand to him, palm up. Murdock looked at the offering, then up at her, and sighed as he put his hand in hers.

"You don't have to explain anything, Murdock," she told him. "I understand."

She did. John was stereotypical alpha-male, as were B.A. and Face. Not that Murdock wasn't, men didn't become Army Rangers—let alone pilots—by not being driven and smart and competitive. But Murdock being Murdock, there were facets to his personality that allowed him to accede more easily to other men's leadership without feeling threatened.

Murdock watched her carefully and apprehensively, trying to determine if she was just saying she understood to placate him, or if she truly meant it. He couldn't decide.

Forcefully he told her, "This isn't about me. I just need to know what Hannibal would need to know . . . is this doctor friend of yours trustworthy? Is he going to report us?"

Stella was honestly surprised at his question. She hadn't considered that was his line of thinking.

"Hannibal deals with this," he continued miserably. "He's the one making sure that we stay under the radar. But now, with all this . . . things have happened that he wouldn't want to have happen. What's that going to mean? How that's going to play out? What if—"

"Murdock!" Stella interrupted him sharply.

He stopped and looked at her liked he'd been kicked.

She took a breath and squeezed his hand. "It'll be fine. Just fine. I know all about John's . . . well, I suppose naming it makes it less scary, right? His _paranoia._ His head's so wrapped up in keeping you boys free that it can be paralyzing."

Murdock was nodding very minutely, as if agreeing too freely would be treason against his Colonel.

"John trusts you, Murdock. Have you ever known him to rely on someone who didn't deserve it?"

Yes, once, Murdock thought to himself, and that ended up with them in maximum security prisons and me in a German loony bin.

But he knew what Stella was trying to say, and didn't contradict her. She had continued.

"He trusts you with his life. You know that. He's not going to be upset about any decisions made when he was so sick he literally couldn't do anything for himself."

Stella watched him for a moment and wondered if what she was telling him was making any difference. Eventually she decided that thirty seconds of reassurance wasn't going to make any miraculous turn-about in Murdock's splintered psyche, so she opted to answer the question he poised at first.

"Dr. Tucker isn't going to turn you in, Murdock," she told him honestly. "I've known Blake for lots of years. He's a good man. I asked him to be discreet, and I truly believe he will be."

This information was easier for Murdock to process, and he nodded more strongly this time.

"Okay."

"Would it help, later, if I told John I was the one who forced you to agree to all these decisions?" Stella asked lightly. She was smiling, and Murdock relaxed at the teasing.

"I'm a Ranger, baby," he said importantly. "I have been highly trained by the top military minds in the United States Army to withstand extreme conditions, combat stress, weapons' malfunction, and food that's worse than what they can legally feed dogs. I can handle the consequences of my actions! But . . . maybe you could walk point and tell Hannibal it was all you?"

Stella laughed so hard it made him laugh too. It woke the two men still in her living room, and they left her unfinished dinner on the table to attend to them.


	8. Chapter 8

Under Dr. Tucker's care, B.A. made rapid improvement. Face and Hannibal recovered their voices and strength too, to the point of Murdock and Stella having to force them to finish their medicines. Hannibal was under strict orders not to smoke, which led to the pilot having to be creative about places to hide the Colonel's beloved cigars.

B.A., although he was getting better, was still weak and coughed occasionally. The doctor told him it may be a lingering effect, and that he should take it easy for the foreseeable future. He agreed. Angel berated him for lying after Dr. Blake left. He laughed, which made him cough again, and Angel quit scolding him.

She didn't stop giving him dirty looks, however.

Everyone was grateful for Dr. Tucker's care—he told them to call him Blake, but no one except Stella seemed comfortable enough to do so. He was a gracious host, and reassured each of them he had no intentions of telling anyone they'd been there.

He tried to joke that luckily none of them had gunshot wound, or he'd be required to report it. The flat stare he received from Hannibal made him backpedal and apologize.

Murdock chauffeured Face and Hannibal back and forth as needed. Dr. Tucker's clinic wasn't technically equipped to keep patients long-term, so Stella's house was still where they stayed. The doctor also asked Stella to help with B.A.'s care, to minimize his staff's involvement with wanted criminals.

Hannibal hadn't looked happy when he heard that either, but didn't say anything.

Murdock was tuned to his teammates' moods, however, and knew that something was niggling at his boss. He'd finally caved and gave Hannibal a cigar, hoping that that would relieve some of the tension. To cover himself, he also announced the direct threat that he would go straight to Stella if it was lit.

The undercurrent of bad feeling hadn't abated, however. Hannibal chewed on the end of the offering in his peevish way, like he had a personal vendetta against cigars and this one in particular.

Unfortunately, it became apparent what Hannibal's issue was.

As the Murdock pulled the van around to the back of the clinic, he caught sight of Dr. Tucker and Stella in his rear office. The embrace they were sharing wasn't platonic.

"Oh shit," he muttered half under his breath. He wondered if Hannibal suspected this; the boss was always suspicious and looking for ulterior motives in people.

"What?" Face asked, from the second row of seats. He leaned forward. _"Oh."_

"Oh shit," Murdock said again, completely under his breath this time. He hadn't meant to speak aloud the first time, in case Hannibal hadn't looked through that window. But Face's question would definitely bring the Bossman's attention—

Whether or not Face opened his mouth—and apparently, whether or not Murdock had either—made no difference. Hannibal crushed the coveted cigar in his fist. Hannibal had seen.

He was out of the vehicle almost before it stopped completely. Neither Murdock nor Face was quick enough to grab him as he sprinted for the rear door of the clinic. Both of them shouted,

"Hannibal!" and "Wait, Hannibal!"

Both of them were ignored.

Apparently the van had made enough noise on the gravel of the parking lot to alert Dr. Blake and Stella, because just before Hannibal made it to the door, Stella came out and closed it firmly behind herself.

Hannibal skid to a stop in front of her. His chest heaved with effort, not because of the short run he'd just completed, but because his lungs weren't quite ready for exertion yet. For a moment he was unable to speak.

Stella stepped closer and reached for his hands. She kept herself between him and the door.

"John. John! Listen to me. Look at me!" she said. "I know what you saw—"

"What I saw?" he roared. "You know what I saw? How about what I _know?_ How about what I'm _thinking?"_

"John, please—you have to calm down. This isn't helping you, this will aggravate your lungs and make it worse for you—"

Still trying to catch his breath, Hannibal shook off her grip. "What? What'll make it worse? Finding out—finding out that-that you're—"

He had to cut himself short to cough.

Although she'd been brushed away, Stella took him by the shoulders and stood by him while he hacked. When he was able to finally take another deep breath without choking, Hannibal shrugged her off again.

"So how long . . . how long has this been going on?" he asked bitterly.

Stella became prickly. "That's none of your business."

"None of my business? You think—"

"You expect me to believe you've not _ever_ been with another woman? _Ever?_ You're—"

"—I don't have a right to know—"

"—traveling all over the world, no strings—"

"—that my, my—"

"Your _what_, John? Your what?"

"My—what do you mean, no strings?"

The overlapping argument pinned Murdock and Face in the van.

"I don't like it when mom and dad fight," Murdock whispered.

Face took his hand, but couldn't offer any other comfort.

Stella and Hannibal had paused after the heated questions. They were both panting, and Stella looked dangerously close to crying.

Hannibal straightened. "Is this why you wouldn't let us pay for B.A.'s treatment? Murdock told me you gave all the cash back."

Stella glared at him. When she didn't answer, it seemed to provoke him more. He boomed,

"Goddamn it, Stella! _I don't let Face whore himself out, I certainly won't let you do it either!"_

Murdock gasped and Face flinched, even though both of them weren't anywhere near the epicenter of the explosion.

The tears Stella had been struggling to hold back fell as she burst out into sobs. Her stony resolve crumpled, and it was obvious to the men in the van she struggled mightily to bring herself back under control.

For a moment, the two in the van sat immobile. Then Murdock clenched his jaw and said,

"I am going out there."

Face didn't try to dissuade him from leaving the van, and followed.

As they crossed the parking lot, they saw Hannibal's storm pass too, and he stepped forward to try and apologize, to try and erase the words he'd just punched her with. Before he could do much, however, both Murdock and Face were there, buffeting him out of the way and wrapping themselves around Stella.

The dark look Murdock gave him didn't stun him as much as Stella accepting their sympathy and allowing them to take her away from him.

The three of them disappeared into the building, leaving Hannibal to make his way back to the van and curse himself.


	9. Chapter 9

A bit later, Face exited the clinic and came back to the van. He opened the side door and slid into the seat.

"We figured you weren't coming inside," Face said, as if that was a debate they'd had, "so I have a shot for you. Roll up your sleeve."

Hannibal complied. The injection burned, and alcohol from the prep wipe ran into the hole the needle left in his arm. That sting was even worse.

He cleared his throat. "I'm . . . well, I need to say . . . about all that. I—"

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Face interrupted in a carefully neutral voice. "I know you're just looking after my interests and well-being when you don't let me whore myself out."

Hannibal snapped his head back, but couldn't hold Face's gaze long.

"I'm sorry, Temp. That was callous and inappropriate."

Face gave him a single nod. He knew that apologies from Hannibal were rare, but when they came they were sincere. He struggled to be gracious about accepting it.

"I'm not making excuses," Hannibal continued. "I think I'm justified to be angry that the woman I love has been cheating on me behind my back. You know?"

Face barked a laugh. It was an abrasive sound, and had nothing to do with his recent sickness. "Yeah, I know. I know, boss. Does_ she_ know? Does Stella know you love her? Does she think it's cheating behind your back?"

Hannibal was silent.

"She hit the nail on the head, bossman. You haven't been completely faithful to her, either. You gonna sit there and tell me you've been upfront and honest with her, and that's the real reason you're pissed off? Because you told her _you've_ slept around but she didn't tell you _she_ had another lover?"

Hannibal spun on him again, but Face didn't heed the warning from the older man's hard stare.

"You're gone what, 90% of her time, Hannibal? You're all over the damn place, and I bet you rarely, if ever, even call her. What's she supposed to do? Just wait and let life just pass by, just watch from the sidelines, and wait for you to just show up out of the blue? Wait for someone who may never show up again, and she'd never even know it?

"Is that how you expect her to be—just sitting and ready to jump when you say how high?"

Face's voice rose and cracked with a combination of rales and anger. He saw the fire drain out of the ex-Colonel's eyes, but couldn't help push a little more.

"I know what all of you think about me. A different person every night, a different person every place we go," he continued, the words coming out clipped as if they were bitter in his mouth. "But at least I'm honest with them. At least I don't string them along, and then expect these grand, unrealistic gestures."

"This isn't about you, Face," Hannibal protested. His voice was frail.

"No. No, it's not about me!" he answered loudly. "It's about knowing limits and respecting people!

"Stella isn't _us_, Hannibal. She's not part of this unit. She's something more—I _think _she's something more to you! She _deserves_ something more."

Face watched Hannibal push his palms into his eyes. When he finally stopped rubbing his face and his blue eyes found Face's, the younger man realized he was looking at a meek, vulnerable John Hannibal Smith.

That was even rarer than a John Hannibal Smith apology. It was like sighting a unicorn.

"You get coached by Murdock?" Hannibal asked, trying to make it light. "All that sounds like something he'd knock me upside the head with."

Face let him ease the mood. "Maybe just being around him makes some of his brainwaves integrate into mine."

"That may mean we're all in trouble."

"Yep."

The two fell silent.

Eventually Face cleared his throat. "The doc says that B.A.'s not completely back to himself, but he's okay to leave. So . . . we're taking Angel and Mama Baracus back home. Stella rented a Cessna. Murdock, B.A. and I are flying them out tomorrow," he said, then hurried to continue, "Yes, B.A. is coming with us. _Flying _with us. I know it's unbelievable, and I'm glad you're sitting down to hear that!"

He half-chuckled, then grew serious again.

"You're going to stay here and make amends or break off this thing with Stella."

Hannibal blinked. He opened his mouth to protest; he started to say that they_ all_ needed to leave. They'd been here close to a month already, and it wasn't safe to stay any longer—

Face stared him down.

"_That_ was coached by Murdock. He came up with the plan, and everyone agreed it was for the best."

Slowly, Hannibal nodded.


	10. Chapter 10

As intended, the group left the next day. Mrs. Baracus and Angel thanked Stella for her hospitality and her care. Even as Hannibal tightened his lips in disagreement, they promised to keep in touch.

Face was last out the door, and locked eyes with Hannibal as it shut behind him. Even without words, the older man understood the direct stare.

* * *

><p>The three men argued about how long to stay away; eventually they gave it longer than B.A. said it should be—"if it ain't finished by now, another day ain't gonna help!"—and shorter than Murdock thought—"hurt feelings and stabbing words can't be just glossed over!"<p>

Face refused to give his opinion either way.

When they finally made it back to Stella's place, they weren't sure if they were walking into a warzone or a love nest.

It seemed to be somewhere in-between.

Stella was happy that B.A. continued to get better, and repeatedly reminded him that he needed to finish all his meds and not engage in too much physical exertion. She told Face the same; both men agreed.

Hannibal's concern that they'd stayed too long with her was finally acknowledged, and they decided to head out. The van was packed up, and B.A. insisted he was fine to drive. He didn't say anything about his seat position being changed, but was happy there was a full tank of gas.

B.A. and Face thanked Stella profusely. She accepted their hugs and kisses and told them not to be strangers.

Murdock took her aside privately to thank her. It was a lengthy, whispered conversation on the front porch that he never relayed to any of the others. None of them commented on her stroking his hair for a long time while they spoke. When the talk was finally finished, he looked at ease and happy.

Hannibal also took some time, and the other three deliberately made themselves scarce by waiting in the van in the garage.

The two of them came out to the garage together. Stella moved to operate the door.

She held Hannibal's hand until he walked to the passenger's side. As she'd done previously, she opened the garage door, waved as B.A. pulled his van out, and shut it behind them. They only saw her a second through the window before she walked away and the vehicle turned into the street.

* * *

><p>The men rode in silence for a bit. Hannibal chewed the tip of an unlit cigar as he watched the landscape go by.<p>

Face and B.A. exchanged glances through the rearview mirror.

"Everything . . . cool, bossman?" Face finally dared to ask.

". . . yeah," he answered slowly. "Everything's . . . all right. We decided . . . "

No one else knew if they wanted to hear the rest, and didn't push for him to continue. The silence hung over them.

Hannibal finally gave himself a shake. His voice was stronger when he resumed his thought.

"We decided that it would be best for Stella to stop seeing Dr. Tucker. And!" he hurried to add, over the sharp intake of breaths ready to verbally jump him. "And I'm done with other women too."

The breaths were let out gratefully. Face clamped his hand on Hannibal's shoulder.

"That's good, boss."

"Yeah," B.A. agreed. "I ain't gonna lie—it's tough havin' someone waitin' for you and you wantin' to be with them. But it sure is sweet, too."

Murdock remained oddly quiet during the exchange. The vehicle sped up as they hit the highway, and the countryside sped by.

Eventually, staring up at the clouds through the side window, Murdock said,

"We talked a lot while we were at Angel's place, Hannibal. She thinks she can rig up some cell phones that we can use regularly. Long term things—no more of this buying disposable ones every other week to keep people from tracking us through them."

Hannibal looked back at the pilot in surprise. Murdock didn't meet his gaze; he continued watching the sky as he shrugged.

"Just thought it might be nice to be able to call people and not have so much worry."

"Murdock was the one who asked her if that was possible," Face supplied.

Murdock shrugged again. "Mostly I get tired of the biweekly memorization sessions for four new telephone numbers. I got enough extra going on in my head. Not having that too will clear out some storage space."

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully. It would be nice to be able to call . . .

"If Angel can do it, that would be appreciated," he said, and Face squeezed his shoulder again.

_fin._

* * *

><p><em>Thanks to all who've stuck through another installment of "she can't NOT add OCs". It's greatly appreciated and I (heart) each and every one of you!<em>


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